


Engineering Solutions

by AssortedGeekery



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Times, Alien Biology, BAMF Hunk (Voltron), Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Fever, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Infection, M/M, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, Sickfic, Trauma, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-27 15:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssortedGeekery/pseuds/AssortedGeekery
Summary: By definition, an engineer is a person who designs, builds and/or supports. Hunk is, by definition, an engineer who builds up and supports the health, wellbeing and overall condition of his teammates and friends. Whether it's a hot cuppa in the middle of the night, a quick rescue, the best hugs or a bowl of chicken(substitute) noodle soup, Hunk's got the team covered.Or5 Times Hunk was #1 Space Mom and 1 time he so totally wasn't





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know the drill. I like the thing, so I visit pain and suffering upon the thing. Or in this case I give the thing a hell of a lot of work to do. 
> 
> I loves me some Hunk, yes I do. 
> 
> Eventual relationships (added to tags as they come up), implied mature relationship activity offscreen, continued abuse of my interpretation of Galra biology. 
> 
> Buckle up!

If he was being honest, Lance enjoyed fighting outside his Lion, at least as much as one _could_ enjoy fighting to survive against a horde of drones and giant purple space cats hellbent on killing him. There was something deeply satisfying about the physicality of defending himself and his friends with his own body, rather than with the body and power of his Lion. He particularly enjoyed it, however, when the team had _planned_ for a fight and he was somewhere that he, as a sniper, could do the most good. Which meant that sudden, unplanned battles in close quarters with members of the local people on _both_ sides of the fight were among his least favorite ways to fight _ever_.

This was the situation he found himself in, separated from his team and his Lion in a network of rocky canyons on what was _hopefully_ going to be an ex-mining planet under Galra occupation. Right now it was a warzone, one the Paladins had come to under the impression that the Galra base was primarily run by drones and a handful of soldiers. In reality, it had several full squads of actual soldiers, a horde of drones and a fair percentage of the otherwise enslaved locals to defend it. Which they had found out after _leaving_ their Lions and proceeding on foot, and...well, it wasn’t a good situation. Too many hostiles, too many places to hide, ricochets and missed shots were dangerous among the rocks, and the locals employed physical weapons as well as the energy weapons favored by both paladins and Galra, making them twice as much trouble when they were bearing down on him with a wickedly long blade and a short-snouted blaster.

“Shiro...this is ridiculous, I can’t even tell who I should be shooting at down here!”

“Just hit anyone in Galra uniform, Lance,” Shiro grunted.

“I have locals trying to kill me! What should I do with _them_?”

“If they’re trying to kill you, they’re enemies.”

“NO KIDDING!”

“Guys, can we try and group back up?” Hunk asked hopefully. “Close-quarters is _not_ my thing…”

“Any chance of that being easy, Pidge?” Shiro asked hopefully. His comm crackled with the hum of his Galra hand engaging. “Somewhere close we can all get to?”

“Uh...no, not really...but we could get halfway there? You’re close enough to Hunk and Lance, and I can meet up with Keith, and we can go from there?” Pidge offered. “There’s some solid cliff walls without tunnels between us right now. If we go for two groups we at least have one melee fighter per group, and it should be easier to get back together after that.”

“Sounds good to me. Can you send directions?”

“Working on it. Sending coordinates….. _now_.”

“Any advice for a _ranged_ fighter? My bayard isn’t _supposed_ to be used as a club!” Hunk bellowed. The sound of him using it for exactly that echoed down the line, a heavily ringing _thud_ marking a successful hit.

“Deactivate it and get your hands on a blaster,” Keith advised. “Or an actual club.”

“Uh….”

“ _Do it_ , Hunk!”

 

Lance listened to the sounds of battle coming over the comms, eyed the directions Pidge had sent, and began trying to follow them to the best of his ability. Which wasn’t much, given the situation. He gave up on shooting and took the approach suggested for Hunk, snatching up a blaster and then, after a moment’s hesitation, a knife that he hoped he didn’t have to use.

He made it halfway to the meeting point before three of the locals came at him together. Blaster shots were his main concern- the paladin armor was strong enough to protect him from the worst damage of a blunt weapon and to usually deflect a bladed weapon, provided it hit the white plating and not the bodysuit, which might or might not yield to the weapon- and he focused on them, dodging and deflecting what he couldn’t dodge, right up until he felt the hot bite of a blade into his side.

Yelling, he whirled on the fourth attacker that had come up behind him, deflecting a volley of shots from a larger, heavier blaster. Deflecting them...into the rocks.

He didn’t have time to run before the rocks came down.

\----

All things considered, Lance was lucky. He had the foresight to throw his arms up with the wrist shields to their maximum expanse, deflecting the worst of the falling stone and leaving him a little burrow of space in which to breathe within the fall of rock and dirt, and he was saved the worst of the possible injuries from the body of a very dead opponent to his left, closer to the cliff face that had apparently crumbled. He curled there for a moment, breathing hard and feeling the creeping wet heat of blood seeping down over his hip. It didn’t feel serious. A wash and a bandage and he’d be fine, which was some relief, at least.

“-ance? Lance? Lance _respond_!” Shiro’s voice was sharp and urgent over the comms.

“Shiro?”

An audible sigh of relief crackled over the line. Lance could hear Hunk saying something in the background, too faint to make out clearly but sounding somewhat exasperated.

“Lance, what happened? There was a rockslide.”

“Yeah, I’m...I’m under it. Or part of it, at least.”

Lance winced, hearing the entire team, Coran and Allura back at the Castle included, exclaim and, in some cases, swear at this announcement.

“Guys, _guys_ , I’m okay! Mostly, I mean, I’m buried in here but I can breathe and I’m not being totally flattened. Can someone locate me and dig me out before that _changes_?”

“On it already,” Pidge said quickly. “Sending coordinates...Hunk, you and Shiro are closer. You go, Keith and I will come to you.”

 

It took the better part of an hour before bright light broke into Lance’s hole, followed quickly by Hunk, who grabbed Lance by the armpits and hauled him, blinking in the light, to safety. And to a hug, tight and frantic, squashing him against Hunk’s chest. Lance didn’t mind. It was a relief to be free, to have his arms and legs stretched out again.

As Hunk turned, Lance got a good look at the rock slide over his shoulder, and realized why his friends had been in such a panic. It hadn’t felt like he was in particularly deep, but eyeballing the hole he’d just been pulled out of, combined with estimating original depth before Shiro and Hunk had started digging, left him at….shit. A good eight to ten feet down, and it was lucky that this particular kind of stone was on the light side. Lance shivered. If that had happened in the canyons around the Garrison, he’d be dead.

“ _Don’t_ do that again,” Hunk scolded, voice trembling. “Just….just _don’t_.”

“I don’t plan to, buddy. It was _not_ as fun as I thought it’d be.”

Hunk snorted at that, then paused, one hand patting at Lance’s side. He tried not to whimper at the pain of it.

“Wet? Why is- Lance you’re _bleeding_!”

“Yeah, I got grazed right before the rocks came down and I haven’t been able to do anything about it, obviously, because I was buried in half a cliff.” Lance twisted, trying to get a look at his side. “It’s not bad or anything. Just needs to be cleaned.”

 

\----

 

There was going to be no finishing this mission quickly. There were enemy forces scattered throughout the warren of canyons and tunnels, and Voltron had to at least thin them out enough to make it safe for the locals to finish the job. They spent the next few days engaging in a string is skirmishes and short battles, driving the Galra and sympathetic locals slowly out of the canyons and into somewhere the Paladins could better handle them en masse.

Lance had put the rock slide out of his mind by the time he’d woken the day afterwards. His bruises were, thankfully, minor, the cut in his side was thin and shallow, he’d been able to snag a shower and get the rock dust out of his hair, and _now_ there was work to be done for a sniper. So he didn’t put much thought into the way the ache in his side around the cut didn’t go away. And when he _did_ think about it, usually while waiting for someone else to flush his targets into the open for him, he shrugged it off as due to holding still, sometimes in weird positions or against uncomfortable rocks, for too long.

He didn’t consider the sweat trickling under his armor as anything other than a result of lying out in the sun in full armor all day, and if he was feeling so thirsty he wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough water, well, he’d been sweating. If he felt heavy and bloated and slow after chugging water, that was to be expected.

And the headache was totally normal too.

But maybe he couldn’t blame the third time he’d stood up and gotten so dizzy he staggered or taken a knee on anything quite so obvious. A headrush was one thing, but this...it was a lot worse than a headrush.

 

The fourth time he stood up and the world spun, they were in the middle of _another_ firefight, one believed to hopefully be the last one they would have to engage in on the ground. Lance had been sprawled on an old platform at the mouth of a mining tunnel, and when he got up, the cliff wall, tunnel mouth and platform tilted and spun around him. His stomach went with them, rolling horribly.

“Lance, fall back into the tunnel, there’s no one else coming your way,” Shiro commanded.

“Yeah, I-” Lance gagged. Took a breath. Gagged again, louder this time. Then he was scrabbling at the edges of his helmet, ripping it off entirely because he couldn’t remember how to raise the visor all of a sudden, and took so long in getting the helmet _off_ that he couldn’t do anything else before he threw up, all down his front. Vaguely, he could hear yelling from the comms echoing in his empty helmet, but his stomach was tightening again and he managed to lean over this time, vomit splattering in the dust. Leaning over threw his tenuous hold on balance and he staggered, then fell to one knee, supporting himself with his bayard and trying desperately to remain upright.

He saw Hunk’s legs running towards him before he passed out.

 

When Lance came to, it was dark and cool and everything that didn’t reek of old puke smelled like stone. He was somewhere in the caves. His whole body hurt, and he was freezing cold.

“Lance?” Hunk appeared over him, dimly lit, looking worried. “Hey...welcome back.”

“Wh’appened?”

“You passed out. Heat stroke, I think. How are you feeling?”

“ _Awful_.” Lance raised a shaky hand. “How long was I out?”

“Hours. We’re about ready to head back to the Castle. Coran said heat stroke isn’t really a thing the pods can handle, so you’re on rest and fluids until you’re feeling better.”

Lance groaned. “Awww, _man_ , and you guys are all gonna be pushy about it too…”

“Of course we are. You didn’t say _anything_ , Lance!”

“Just thought it was a headache. Maybe needed a little more water…”

“Yeah, well, obviously it was more serious than that.”

“Yeah….”

 

Back on the ship, Lance was summarily shuffled off to shower and rest, which he attempted to do with the best of intentions. He changed into loose, comfortable clothes and crawled into bed, trying to ignore how every part of him ached, and he tried to take a nap. But the pain in his side was throbbing, and he was _so cold_ . He didn’t think he’d had heat stroke before, but feeling _cold_ couldn’t be right, could it?

Still dizzy and feeling nauseous again, he dragged himself out of bed and went looking for his team. And maybe extra blankets. If he was lucky he could get a whole people puddle together and _that_ would probably be warm enough.

 

Sure enough, the whole team was crammed onto a couch, though they were reviewing their recent battles in an effort to glean any additional information about their opponent’s typical movements. Lance shuffled in, ignored any questions directed his way, and burrowed head first into the pile, cramming himself in between Hunk and Shiro in a spot he normally wouldn’t be willing to settle in due to excessive body heat- both Hunk _and_ Shiro were like walking furnaces at close range- but which sounded just about right in his current state.

Hunk chuckled good naturedly and scooted a bit to make room. Shiro eyed Lance, grunted, and shifted his lapful of Keith to make a little more space, until Lance could settle down and close his eyes. He dozed, shivering less now that he had blankets and other people’s body heat to warm him.

“...Lance? Are you drooling?” Shiro asked after a while, raising one arm to peer down at Lance.

“...hmmk?”

“Something’s... _wet_.”

Lance shifted, blinking blearily up at him. “Nuh-uh.”

“Where?” Hunk asked. “Did anyone bring a drink in with them?”

“My...hip?” Shiro said slowly, frowning. Lance’s head wasn’t anywhere near there; he had it pillowed on Hunk’s side, almost in his armpit, and definitely wasn’t drooling.

Keith squirmed a little, wriggling his hand down between Lance and Shiro’s side in an effort to find...whatever it was. Lance wriggled, trying to escape the ticklish intrusion, then was nearly punched in the chin as Keith yelped in disgust and yanked his hand back.

“It’s _slimy_!”

“Fuck you, I am _not_!”

Keith shook his hand, grimacing. “You _are_!”

Right about then, the smell that had followed Keith’s hand hit the collected Paladins. In the midst of the complaints and threats upon whoever had produced it, Hunk stopped, then grabbed for Keith’s hand and inspected it.

“ _Hey_! Hunk, what are you-”

Hunk let go, shifted Pidge out of the way, and dragged Lance out into the open.

“OW! _Hunk_ , what-”

“Hold still,” Hunk said firmly, beginning to dig Lance out of his blanket coccoon. “Didn’t you say you took a hit from a knife, before the rockslide came down on you?”

“Yeah, but it was just-” Hunk’s fingers hit something that sent pain shooting through Lance’s side. He yelled, thrashing away from Hunk and falling off the couch entirely. The fall jarred his side, tearing a sharp, animal screech of pain from him.

In the confusion that followed, Hunk got down on the floor with Lance and tore the blankets away from him entirely, allowing the team to see a spreading stain of blood and something slippery and yellowish on the side of his shirt before Hunk yanked that up and over Lance’s head.

Gasping, Lance stilled as more hands moved to hold him down, pinning his arms and pressing his shoulders flat against the floor. When he had stopped moving and it was easier for his friends to get a good look at him, they all began talking at once. The cut in his side, a good six inches long at least, had _not_ healed yet. The edges of it were angry red, with thin tendrils of more red spreading up his ribs, down over his hips, and sideways onto his back and belly. The lips of the wound, puckered open where they hadn’t been when Lance had last looked at it, days ago, were wet and oozing thick pus. More than one set of fingers touched the flushed skin and withdrew, hissing or swearing.

“ _Lance_ , this is _infected_ !” Pidge yelped. “ _Really badly_ infected!”

“I-it was fine,” Lance insisted. “I was _fine_ , but- _fuck_ , Hunk!”

Hunk looked up frmo where he was delicately probing the edges of the wound. “This is _bad_ , Lance,” he said quietly. “Can someone go tell Coran we need to use a pod?”

“I don’t need a pod!”

“Lance. This is serious. It’s _spreading_ . You didn’t have heatstroke, you have a _fever_ from the infection.” Shiro nudged Hunk’s hands out of the way and performed his own brief inspection, chilly metal fingers following the lines of the spreading infection. “More importantly, this is _dangerous_ . An infected wound like this can and _will_ kill you.”

“But...But I-”

“A pod should fix this up quickly,” Shiro murmured. “And you’ll probably need a few days of rest, to rehydrate and let the healing take. How did it get this bad?”

Lance shook his head. “I...I _cleaned it_ , I swear I did.”

“We were working in caves and tunnels in a hot place, Lance, I’m _sure_ you cleaned it, but in an environment like that you have to clean it a _lot_ , and use treatments you didn’t have on you, and that isn’t your fault, but you should’ve _said_ it was still bothering you.”

“We were fighting a _war_!”

“And we needed-”

“ _No_ ! You don’t get to lecture me when you’ve done all kinds of stupid shit while injured or compromised or whatever! At least I _tried_ to take care of it!”

 

Pidge jogged back into the room just then, to see Lance struggling to sit up, face screwed up in anger, and Shiro straightening, jaw set. They looked ready to question the situation, then wisely decided against it.

“So...Coran took the pods down for maintenance. We’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way. I need a swab so we can start working on an antibiotic, and we’ll have to clean out and debride the wound ourselves.”

“....de- _what_?” Lance demanded.

“We have to scrape all the dead stuff out, so you can heal properly,” Hunk explained.

Lance did his best to struggle up and away from his friends at the idea. “Fuck no! You aren’t...you can’t…”

“We have to,” Hunk said firmly, scooping Lance up before he could escape. “Come on. You should rest while we get things set up.”

 

\-------

Lance didn’t rest. He yelled instead, arguing at the top of his lungs until every teammate he had was entirely fed up. He worked himself into a tizzy of fear and frustration, made himself sick enough to throw up, and was generally an exhausted, angry mess by the time Hunk returned to collect him.

“ _Hunk_ , isn’t there….can’t I just….”

Hunk shook his head, offering his arm for Lance’s support. “Even if we just did up an antibiotic and covered or stitched up the cut, Lance, that would trap all kinds of awful stuff under your skin and you’d end up even sicker than you are already. This is gonna _suck_ , okay? I’m not going to lie to you about it. But with the pods down this is our best option.”

“ _No_ . I don’t _want_ …”

“And _I_ don’t want you to die of a little tiny cut that got left alone too long,” Hunk said firmly. When Lance stood, Hunk got ahold of him and swept him out of the room before he could protest.

 

In one of the small side rooms off the pod room, Lance was summarily heaved up onto an exam table, something that was universally cold and uncomfortable and vaguely unsettling no matter what species had made it. Coran brought over a tray of instruments and bowls of water with a sharp smell of disinfectant, then took a step back.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this procedure performed,” Coran remarked, standing to the side. Pidge and Keith were both vigiorously scrubbing their hands in the corner. Shiro was nowhere to be seen. “And where has Number One gotten to?”

“This isn’t something he needs to see,” Hunk explained, moving around the table where he could help hold Lance still. “And I don’t think he’s comfortable with it either.”

“And you all...know how to do this?”

“We know enough,” Keith said flatly, sorting delicately through a small tray of tools. “About how it works and how to do it. If you’re going to watch, go stand on Hunk’s side where you aren’t in the way. This should last any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“So...what I understand is that you intend to...cut or scrape all the infected material from the wound, clean it and then...sew it closed?”

“That’s the short explanation,” Pidge agreed. “Ready, Keith?”

Keith made a small, negative sound and Lance began cringing away from him at once.

“I don’t _want_ this,” Lance whispered, still trying to move when Hunk pinned his shoulders. “Hunk, buddy, _please_ …”

“If I have to strap your legs to the table, I will,” Hunk warned.

“ _Hunk_ …”

“No. I’m willing to deal with this so I _don’t_ have to deal with you actively trying to die of infection, okay?”

Lance bit his lip, shuddering when Pidge’s  fingers touched his side. “....strap my legs,” he whispered. “I...I _can’t_ , Hunk…I’ve gotta fight it, I…”

Hunk nodded, moving to the end of the table to lock restraining straps around Lance’s ankles, then back up, with a second set across his thighs. Then he returned to the top of the table, resolutely pinning Lance at the shoulders. “Better?”

Lance managed a sound that might have been a laugh before it was caught and strangled on the way out. “Y-yeah, buddy…..it’s better.”

 

Then both Pidge and Keith started working, and Lance started screaming. Coran managed a few minutes of this, silently watching Hunk pin Lance’s upper body to the table while Keith and Pidge cleaned as quickly and neatly as they could, before he excused himself. Lance’s screams echoed down the hallway behind him.

 

When it was over, Lance had passed out. Trembling, Hunk gathered him up and carried him into the rec room, settling him on the couch beside Shiro. He fussed over blankets for a moment or two, steadily losing color, until Shiro caught his hand and held it still.

“Go,” he said quietly. “I’ll watch him.”

Hunk made a sick, miserable sound, nodded, and fled the room with a hand clapped over his mouth.

Shiro sighed heavily and shifted Lance into a position he was less likely to complain about when he woke, patted the unusually messy brown hair, and went back to reading.

 

When Hunk returned, he had kofi and chopped fruit on a tray, which he handed to Shiro before settling on the couch with a sigh and gently shifting Lance to lean against him. Lance sighed quietly, moving a little to nuzzle into Hunk’s side, which made both Shiro and Hunk smile.

“He’ll be fine,” Shiro murmured. “We caught it early and Pidge will have an antibiotic for him in a few hours. Rest and care and he’ll be back on his feet.”

“I know,” Hunk mumbled.

“I know you do. But you need to hear it too. You’re his best friend.”

Hunk nodded faintly. “I guess so…”

Shiro shrugged. “ _Knowing_ it doesn’t help me when Keith’s in a pod. Hell, it doesn’t even help when one of you three is in a pod, and I haven’t known any of you anywhere near as long. Being told the facts helps, some.”

“Yeah…..sorry. I brought snacks?” He took the tray back from Shiro and shuffled the contents around, revealing a small bowl of crunchy, crackery snacks they found at a great many inter-galactic outposts they stopped at. “And Kofi. I needed….something to do. You know.”

“I do know,” Shiro agreed. “You’re going to be busy with Lance until he’s better, too.”

Hunk managed to look a little sheepish. “It’s habit.”

“I don’t think he minds.” Shiro took a mug of kofi and looked away, out a window. “Probably reminds him of home- you’re the closest thing to family he has. Half the time you’re the closest thing to family _any_ of us have.”

“You and Keith-” Hunk started, bu Shiro shook his head.

“Our dynamic is different...at least….it is on my end. I...think.”

“‘Home’ can mean a lot of different things,” Hunk admitted. “You’re home to Keith.”

Shiro made a small sound somewhere between amusement and despair. “I’m….I’m not fit to…... “ He sighed heavily. “Thank you. You always manage to keep me from effectively talking about _you_.”

“Avoidance is a skill I’ve spent a long time developing,” Hunk agreed. “I’m mostly okay. You guys need the attention more than I do.”

“ _Hunk_ , that’s not-”

“Yes it is. I get plenty of attention from all of you for lots of reasons and without you trying. I’ll be okay. Lance will be too, so...it’s fine. I’d rather focus on other things.”

Shiro nodded faintly, letting him get away with it for the time being. “Fair enough. For now.”

They sat together in silence, Shiro reading on his tablet, Hunk staring vaguely off into space and stroking Lance’s hair. After a time, Lance stirred, curling into Hunk’s middle with a low groan. Hunk looked down at him, smiling faintly when Lance sniffled faintly and made a valiant effort to burrow into Hunk’s stomach.

“Normal behavior?” Shiro guessed, watching.

“As normal as anything gets with Lance,” Hunk murmured, tugging gently at Lance’s ear. “Hey. Not a pillow, Lance, you can’t burrow under me.”

“Fffnnngg….. _watch me_ ,” Lance mumbled.

Hunk laughed and gently lifted him into a sitting position. “Hey. Welcome back. How do you feel?”

“ _Bad_ ,” Lance groaned, attempting to tip back over.

“Well yeah, I kinda of figured. Pidge is almost done with your meds. Want some water? Or something to eat?”

“ _Noooooo_ …..”

“I have fruit….those weird purple things you like….”

Lance straightened. “You do?”

“Yeah, cut up and everything. Want some?”

Lance considered, then dropped back into Hunk’s lap. “Feed me.”

Hunk laughed and reached for the tray Shiro was already nudging closer to him, picking a few slices of the crunchy purple fruit. Personally, Hunk thought it tasted like a good grapefruit with the texture of a jicama, but since he wasn’t an enormous fan of grapefruit, he didn’t quite understand Lance’s obsession with the things. It brought a smile to Lance’s face, though, and a quietly contented hum after the first noisily crunchy bite.

“See?” Hunk murmured, absently smoothing Lance’s hair with his free hand. “Told you it would be okay.”


	2. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's Keith's turn to suffer and Hunk has an enlightening conversation with Shiro. 
> 
> Guest appearance by a very put-upon Kolivan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to cabbagespoon over to Tumblr, one of my all-time favorite authors and almost solely responsible for my continued Voltron shenanigans.

 

With the slowly developing flexibility amongst Lion pilots and Allura’s some-time position as a pilot of Blue, the team adjusted to Keith’s more frequent missions with the Blade as well as they could. It didn’t cripple them as it once would have, though admittedly no one in the Castle of Lions really  _ liked _ when Keith was gone.

It tended to kick off periods of busy work, both assigned by Allura and Shiro and picked up by the Paladins themselves, needing time-consuming work to keep themselves occupied while they waited for Keith to come home. Because it just wasn’t  _ like _ when any of them were on Voltron-related missions. The Blade of Marmora wasn’t big on calling home in the evenings, so to speak, and Kolivan was notoriously stingy with updates. 

This time, it had been more than two weeks since Keith had gone. There had been a few little scraps to deal with, a political event no one wanted to attend….and a lot of busy work. Many hands made light work of stocking up on supplies, taking inventory of the seemingly endless storage spaces, maintaining equipment and working to beat personal bests in the gym. 

Hunk was taking a break from the kitchen, having done everything for dinner he could until it was closer to time to actually eat. Not wanting to get drawn back into inventory when he had other things to be doing soon, he walked a familiar path down the halls, aiming to stretch his legs and settle himself. Keith needed to stop going on such long missions with the Blade...not because his work wasn’t  _ important _ , but because Hunk wasn’t sure they could all handle the continued stress of not  _ knowing _ .

Naturally, the alert of an approaching Blade ship caught him about as far from the hangars as he could possible be, so he had to run all the way back or miss Keith’s return.

 

When the ship’s door opened, the team stared, Rather than the teammate they had been expecting, it revealed Kolivan. He had Keith slung over one should like a sack of potatoes and an expression that suggested he would have preferred being  _ anywhere _ else.

“What  _ happened _ ?” Shiro demanded, coming forward to take Keith. 

“Our medical officer administered a mild sedative after learning he had gotten less than 25% of the prescribed amount of sleep in the past several days. As you can see, the effect was... _ not _ as intended.”

He flipped Keith off his shoulder and into Shiro’s waiting arms. Keith flopped against his chest with an unsteady giggle. 

“A blood sample has been taken for analysis, to prevent a repeat of this incident. As the sedative in question is safe for Galra and deemed chemically appropriate for your species as well, the specific cause of the reaction is unknown. However, his insistence on  _ petting _ several agents necessitated his return...the behavior unnerved most of the base.”

“Thank you,” Shiro sighed, as Keith shifted to tuck against his neck. “If you cou- _ hnh _ !”

Kolivan raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yes?”

“Shiro?” Pidge asked carefully. “Did Keith just...ah…”

“ _ Licked _ me,” Shiro managed, voice a bit high. “Yes. And he-  _ gnnh _ !”

Everyone on Shiro’s left saw Keith bite Shiro’s neck,  _ hard _ , then relax in his arms looking satisfied. 

“And there is the apparent urge to taste people,” Kolivan added, tone suspiciously flat. “He bit the medic as well, and several arms in the process of moving him to the ship. There has been more licking than biting, but…”

“Right. Okay. Thanks for bringing him back. If you could let us know what the medical officer finds out, we’d really appreciate it.”

Keith made a move for Shiro’s neck again and Shiro, blushing, hurriedly handed him over to Hunk. 

“Of course,” Kolivan murmured. “The oral fixation was temporarily curbed with a piece of dried ougnu to gnaw on. I suggest finding something similarly tough to prevent more...incidents.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Shiro repeated. 

Kolivan nodded and excused himself, leaving the team to look worriedly at Keith. Hunk had taken a leaf out of Kolivan’s book and flipped Keith upside down over his shoulder. 

“Maybe we should feed him,” Hunk suggested. “A full stomach might help him fall asleep….since I think we’ll all get  _ bitten _ if we do a cuddle pile.”

“Good idea,” Lance agreed. “Hey, Keith? You hungry, man? Hunk was making dinner…”

Keith nodded against Hunk’s back and mumbled something incoherent into his shirt. 

“Alright. Let’s get you all fed and settled so you can sleep the Galran happy drugs off.”

 

Keith was coordinated enough to eat the wraps Hunk had prepared, and hungry enough to eat one and a half before he even slowed down. Hunk gave him a piece of fruit leather- tough but delicious, and a good project when the occasional gift of way too much fruit came their way from this or that grateful species- to chew on and let the rest of the team shoo him away to rest.

Hunk was still cleaning up when Shiro returned and began making a pot of tea. 

“He settled?” Hunk asked. 

“Settled and passed out.  _ Finally _ . Hopefully that sedative will have worn off when he wakes up and he won’t be so...bitey.”

“Sensitive neck, huh?” Hunk chuckled, and had the distinct pleasure of watching Shiro blush, brightly and immediately. 

“....yes.  _ Very _ .”

“Does he know that, or did you just get really unlucky?”

“I’m...not entirely sure…”

“Mmhm.” Hunk finished putting things away and joined Shiro at the table. Shiro stared resolutely into his tea. “So no progress on the relationship front?”

Shiro choked on a mouthful of tea. As he sputtered, Hunk handed him a towel. 

“ _ Hunk _ !”

“I’m not  _ blind _ , Shiro.”

“But you-”

“Are not offended by the idea. You two are  _ insanely _ well-matched. I was surprised when I found out you hadn’t dated before Kerberos, to be honest. And you  _ know _ it isn’t just the common Galra bits that make it easier for you two to relax and rest around each other.” Hunk shrugged. “And it would save  _ you _ the constant struggle between wanting physical contact and not wanting to disrupt the team dynamic.”

Shiro’s blush darkened further and he looked down into his tea again.

“I can’t just….it’s not that  _ simple _ . We’re a  _ team _ . Showing favoritism-”

“Having legitimate  _ feelings _ for someone isn’t the same as favoritism. You work Keith at least as hard as the rest of us, sometimes harder. You don’t let him out of chores any more often than you let the rest of us out of them. You correct him the same, critique and scold him the same, and even praise us all about the same. You and Keith are a bit closer off duty, but you’ve know each other a long time. I don’t think anything would really change, as far as the team dynamic goes. But I  _ do _ think it would be incredibly good for the two of  _ you _ .”

Shiro sighed heavily and sipped his tea. Hunk watched him a moment, then got up, rummaged in a cabinet, and returned to hand Shiro a cookie. 

“...thanks, Hunk.”

“Any time. Think about what I said, okay?”

“Yeah...I will.”

“Good. Everyone else in the rec room with Keith?”

“They are, bu Keith’s in his room. No one wanted to have to risk a bite getting hi to bed later, y’know?”

“Mmhm. Gonna join us?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Alright. See you in a bit.”

 

There was a people pile on the couch when Shiro got to it, which shifted to engulf him in a lazy, contented heap of bodies. Even Allura was in on it, propped against Hunk’s side with Lance half-sprawled across her lap. There was a movie on, but everyone was paying more attention to the lazy pleasure of having the whole team back under the same roof to really watch it. 

They stayed there for the duration of the movie and started another one before Keith wandered in.

“Keith?” PIdge asked, looking up. 

“You okay?” Lance added, eyeing him. 

“...I don’t think that sedative has worn off yet,” Hunk said slowly. “He still looks kind of out of it.”

Keith did. He looked dazed and a little pale, hugging himself as though he was chilled. As they watched, he took a few more steps forward, then stopped, looking uneasy.

“Keith?” Shiro murmured, sitting up a little straighter. “What is it?”

Keith opened his mouth, possibly to respond. 

Instead of speaking, he threw up.  _ Violently _ . 

 

There was no getting off the couch fast enough. Keith hosed down the people pile at center mass, and as the team scattered in all directions, he hit the floor on his knees, coughing weakly. 

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Shiro swore, yanking his shirt off and hurrying back to Keith. He mopped at Keith’s face, jerking back too late as Keith retched again, less forceful but still more than enough to splatter on Shiro’s bare chest and slop down Keith’s shirt. “Didn’t even see that coming, did you?”

Keith swayed drunkenly and made a little whining sound. Shiro struggled to prop him up and to keep wiping him clean as possible.

“Here,” Hunk whispered, voice tight. He knelt behind Keith and braced him at the shoulders, steadying him as Shiro finished with the worst of the mess. “You both need a shower.  _ Now _ .”

“Y-yeah...let me get his shirt off first. Can...can you handle this? I mean…” Shiro gestured vaguely at the mess. 

“I’ll manage,” Hunk promised. “He’s too out of it for you to maange on your own, and you need someone tall  _ and _ big enough to hold him up, so Lance and Pidge are out. You don’t want to ask Allura, do you?”

“ _ Definitely _ not. Thanks.”

Shiro stripped Keith’s shirt carefully over his head and wadded it up. Together, he and Hunk got Keith on his feet and half-carried him out of the room. 

 

Pidge caught up with them in the hall outside the training area, the closest showers big enough to fit all three of them. Without preamble, Pidge (wearing one of Hunk’s shirts like a dress in place of the pajamas they had been lounging in) ran the rounded end of a thermometer across Keith’s forehead. It beeped, and Pidge stepped back to check the reading, allowing Shiro and Hunk to hustle him into the closest thing the castle had to a locker room. 

“ _ Really _ high fever,” Pidge warned, coming in behind them. “But the sedative he took was administered by injection  _ hours _ ago, he would have spiked a fever sooner if that was the cause…”

“What about that dried ougnu he had?” Hunk asked, supporting Keith at the armpits while Shiro got the water running. “Have we had that before?”

“I didn’t recognise the name,” Pidge admitted. “You think it was that?”

“Food poisoning would  _ fit _ , is all I’m saying. Came on suddenly and fairly quickly after exposure, and the...ah...projectile vomiting is pretty typical for food poisoning.”

“Not an allergy?”

“I have  _ never _ seen  _ anyone _ projectile vomit from a food allergy. Try and get ahold of Kolivan or the Blade- if it’s food poisoning, anyone else who ate it should be sick too. Unless this is a human thing….”

“I’ll try,” Pidge sighed. “But I wouldn’t hold m-  _ ack _ !”

Keith jerked forward, nearly out of Hunk’s hold, and heaved up another splatter of vomit on the floor. Hunk sighed. 

“Almost ready, Shiro?”

“Yeah…

 

Between the two of them, they got Keith cleaned up, then took turns holding him as they both rinsed themselves off in a hurry. Keith slumped against whoever had him, weak and disoriented but not, for the time being, actively vomiting. 

There was a little crowd of people outside the doors as they exited, Keith wrapped loosely around Hunk’s front with his head on Hunk’s shoulder. Shiro had tried carrying him first, but the sprawl of a bridal carry had caused Keith to make some worryingly queasy sounds.

Pidge was at the front of the little crowd, armed with a tablet they were already making notes on. “Did he throw up again?”

“Not since you left,” Hunk murmured, shifting his grip under Keith to keep him steady. “Didn’t even gag. Did you hear from the Blade?”

“Uh-huh. You were right, definitely food poisoning. Kolivan wasn’t available, but we got the medical officer. She reported widespread illness around that base, all with symptoms more or less like Keith’s. Some of them are worse off. Some aren’t so bad. Keith’s on the better side of average, it looks like.”

Shiro winced. “.... _ better _ side of average?”

“She had a couple of people in medical hooked up for dehydration and others who pretty much can’t leave the bathrooms,” Pidge confirmed. “So yes. Better.”

Shiro and Hunk cringed in concert. Radmacher’s Disease had been bad enough, and it had been upper GI symptoms  _ only _ . Alien food poisoning had the potential to be so much more miserable.

“....think it’s safe to put him in your room?” Hunk asked, eyeing Shiro.

“ _ My _ room? Why? Is something wrong with his?”

“No one else is  _ in _ his room.”

Shiro blinked at him. “Hunk...I’m not making the connection.”

“He probably came out to the pile in the first place because he couldn’t rest without someone around. And he’s always the calmest with you. And I know you can’t fall asleep in his room, you’ve said so before.” He shrugged. “He won’t fit in my bed with me, and neither one of us can sleep on the couch all night without moving like old men afterwards.”

That brought a wry smile to Shiro’s lips. Pidge and Keith, being smaller, were adept at sleeping comfortably on the couches. Lance was really too tall for it, but was both apparently immune to a stiff neck and so flexible he could fold himself into more comfortable positions. Hunk and Shiro, on the other hand, regretted the occasions when they accidentally overnighted on even the widest of the castle’s couches.

“....you want him to stay with me?”

“Do  _ you _ want him wandering the halls like this? Because he will.”

Shiro sighed. “ _ No _ ….definitely my room, I guess. Did anyone make sure he didn’t…..y’know? In his room?”

“It’s clear,” Lance assured him, getting out of the way so Shiro could move ahead and open his door when they arrived. “Blankets are all over everywhere, though.”

Hunk nodded, sidling into the darkened bedroom after Shiro. The others remained behind, knowing that, for the most part, Shiro’s room was not somewhere they were welcome. Inside it was dark, very sparsely furnished and just…..highly military in nature despite the lack of military influence almost anywhere else on the ship or indeed in Shiro’s day-to-day behavior.

Shiro pulled blankets back and let Hunk gently peel Keith off himself and settle him down on the bed, carefully arranging him even as Keith made a weak, displeased sound and attempted to climb back into Hunk’s hold. 

“....get in there with him or I’ll never be able to get out of here,” Hunk hissed at Shiro. “It’s like putting a four year old to bed.”

“How is it l-”

“ _ Now _ , before he escapes.”

Shiro went, slithering under the blankets on Keith’s other side. The next time Hunk attempted to peel the Red Paladin off, he went easily to Shiro, curling against his body with one arm slung across Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro sighed and tried to make himself comfortable under his teammate’s weight.

 

Pidge and Lance drifted away, but Hunk snagged some dry pants and went sraight to the kitchen. At best, Keith was going to be weak and wobbly with a tender stomach tomorrow. Worst case, he was going to need very careful care and it would be best to start things now. 

He was still pottering around, humming along to some instrumentals from one of the last planets they’d visited, when Allura padded in, yawning. 

“ _ Hunk _ ?” she managed. “What are you doing up? It’s  _ late _ .”

He blinked at her. “Getting things set up for Keith. And I figured I’d do some prep for our meals tomorrow too, since I was up.”

“It’s been  _ hours _ , Hunk. You should get some rest.”

“What are you doing up, then?”

Allura smiled guiltily. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

“I’ll make tea,” Hunk sighed. “I’m almost done anyway. Sit down.”

She did, though not before getting some thin, sweet crackers out of a cabinet. They reminded Hunk a little of wheat thins and a little of senbei, but they were unquestionably a thing to be eaten with a hot drink. 

He joined her with two mugs of herbal tea and settled down with a sigh. “Can’t sleep because of Keith, or…?”

“Keith,” Allura sighed. “I know Pidge confirmed it’s likely food poisoning and the rest of the ship isn’t in danger, but….after last time…”

Hunk nodded. They  _ all _ got nervous when anyone except him threw up, these days. Whether it was worrying about Shiro getting another sinus infection or low-key panicking over the threat of another dangerous virus spreading amongst them, a gag or two from anyone but Hunk was enough to set the whole team on edge.

“If it was anyone except Keith with Galra-grade food poisoning, I’d be a lot more worried, but if the medic said that was what it was and that Keith’s doing okay so far, I’m going to believe her. And our species is...uh...well, we have a habit of eating things we shouldn’t on purpose, and regularly too, so...we may actually be more resistant to food poisoning than the average Galra.”

“I  _ was _ wondering about the amount of capsaicin you five ingest….especially Lance, that...is that  _ healthy _ ?”

“It’s cultural. He grew up eating spicy food. Shiro and Keith too, at least in part. Pidge and me, not so much, but I was introduced to it early and I like it a lot.” He pushed a mug to her. “We’ve learned a lot of ways to make dangerous or downright deadly plants and animals edible, in the history of humanity. Sometimes it’s because part of the thing isn’t toxic, other times because there’s ways to treat or prepare it that make it safe.”

“As much as I’d like to visit your planet someday, Hunk, I have a hard time believing you’ve all come from somewhere so  _ dangerous _ . Even Diabaazol wasn’t so actively dangerous, and that planet produced the  _ Galra _ !”

Hunk chuckled. “Yeah, well, we adapt. Out of  _ everything _ , that’s what humanity’s best at, I think...we change to suit the situation.”

“And…..how  _ was _ Keith, when you left him?”

“Glued to Shiro and falling asleep,” Hunk murmured, reaching for a cracker. “He was still out of it from the sedative, and exhausted from being sick. Seriously, I had to stick him to Shiro so I could get him off  _ me _ .”

“You act as though he’s some kind of adhesive,” she giggled. 

“I think he  _ is _ , sometimes. Like, if I’d thrown him at the wall, he’d’ve stayed right where he hit.” Hunk mimed flinging something at the wall and imitated a sort of splat noise. “Seriously.”

Allura giggled some more, and the conversation turned to less worrisome things until they were both settled enough to go to bed.

 

Come morning, Shiro managed to peel Keith off of himself without waking him and joined the rest of the team for breakfast, looking ruffled and tired but not, thankfully sick. This alone was enough to calm the rest of the Castle residents, because if after being clung to, puked on and then used as a nighttime teddy bear Shiro  _ wasn’t _ sick, then the likelihood of it being contagious was pretty much zero. 

“He’s still asleep,” Shiro sighed, accepting something like oatmeal from Hunk. “I could hear his stomach making some pretty nasty noises….and he definitely still has a fever.”

“Couldn’t sleep because of the heat?” Hunk guessed, passing kofi over next. 

Shiro nodded faintly, already burying his face in the mug with a quiet hum. He never even bothered to ask if it was sweetened anymore, Hunk knew exactly how he liked it: sweet, black and in large quantities.

“So we’ll just call it a training and maintenance day, then?” Pidge suggested. “I have  _ so _ much data to crunch, Kolivan transferred some massive data packets when he was here.”

Shiro nodded. “We should all get in some gym time, but then individual projects sounds fine to me. Princess?”

“Yes, that does seem the best plan of action. And perhaps you could check in with the Blade, Pidge? It sounded as though this was rather serious for them…”

 

Training went as planned, ending only a few minutes early when Keith shuffled in, wrapped in a blanket, hugging himself and looking miserable. He had on a pair of his own sweats but was barefoot on the chilly floor. To everyone’s relief, while he didn’t look at all  _ well _ , he did look considerably more  _ conscious _ than he had since his return.

“Hey, welcome back,” Shiro murmured, backing out of the circle they were using for sparring as Keith shuffled his way. “How are you feeling?”

Keith said nothing, continuing his forward motion untl he was close enough to let his forehead fall against Shiro’s chest. The rest of the team kept a fair distance away, not willing to chance a repeat of the night before. 

Shiro sighed and stroked Keith’s hair, grimacing and pausing to inspect his hand before continuing the motion anyway. “That bad?”

Keith mumbled something into Shiro’s shirt. 

“What?”

More mumbled, forcing Shiro to lean down and try to hear better. Then he straightened with a sigh and gently turned Keith towards Hunk. 

“Can you keep an eye on him? I have to...uh...he...you know.” He gestured vaguely. “On the bed.”

Hunk grimaced. “ _ Ooh _ . Yeah, you’d better go deal with that  _ now _ . C’mere, Keith.” He met Keith halfway and was rewarded, if one could call it that, with the same exhausted head-to-chest maneuver Keith had done with Shiro. He also tried stroking Keith’s hair and found it heavy and wet with sweat. It was possible he made roughly the same face Shiro had at this revelation before he switched to rubbing Keith’s back. 

“C’mon,” he said gently, as the doors swished shut behind Shiro breaking into a dead run in the hall. “Let’s get you settled down somewhere warm. Maybe some tea for your stomach?”

“……that gingery stuff?” Keith asked softly. 

“Yeah, that gingery stuff. And maybe a couple of crackers, y’ think you can do that for me?”

Keith . “…I dunno, Hunk…”

“We’ll start with the tea, then,” Hunk said at once. “And if you feel up to it we’ll get to the other stuff later.” He gently steered Keith to the door and out into the hall, heading for the lounge. 

 

In short order, Hunk had given up on doing anything useful. Keith with food poisoning was a nervous, paranoid creature who followed the nearest person around apparently for the sake of not being alone. Hunk supposed he couldn’t blame him…as much time as he spent on solo missions for the Blade, being weak and alone must feel like a kind of a death sentence.

Rather than trail an ailing paladin like the world’s weirdest duckling all morning, Hunk made extra tea, snagged crackers and a tablet, and settled on a couch in the lounge, letting Keith first curl beside him drinking tea, then sprawl half across his front in an awkward position Hunk had to help support. He suspected it had something to do with body heat, because despite the fever, Keith shivered fitfully. It wasn’t all that hard to keep him there anyway, though eventually he had to shift Keith into his lap or risk his whole arm going to sleep. 

He was still there, reading back through some new code he and Pidge were developing when Shiro finally returned, carrying an extra blanket and a mug of kofi. 

“Changing of the guard?” Hunk quipped. 

“Yeah, got the laundry taken care of,” Shiro sighed, dropping onto the other end of the couch. “How is he?”

“Fine so long as I don’t  _ go _ anywhere. I got some tea and a cracker into him.” 

Shiro settled himself as comfortably as he could, then reached for Keith. Hunk was all too happy to get up carefully and shuffle his friend into Shiro’s arms, but Keith made it difficult by rousing enough to grumble sleepily and cling to Hunk’s shirt. 

“If we didn’t  _ know _ he was part Galra I’d accuse him of being part  _ octopus _ ,” Hunk sighed, letting Shiro get a grip on Keith before he began gently prising Keith’s hands open. 

“You’re warmer than I am,” Shiro murmured. “I’m sure it feels good.”

“I am not.”

“You are. A little bit, but I asked Coran once. You run almost a degree higher than I do on an average day. And you have more lap.”

Hunk snorted. “Thick thighs save lives, oh noble leader”

They both chuckled. Lance and Pidge both had video evidence of Hunk competing in a competition on a friendly planet where the goal had been to crush increasingly large gourds between one’s thighs in a display of strength. Hunk had taken first place in the male division and had spent the rest of that day being fawned over by starry-eyed locals. Shiro had gamely given it a try but had bowed out after the first two rounds. It was widely accepted that Hunk had the best lap for sprawling in, on or across, but it became point of pride for Hunk after the contest.

In the midst of the careful handoff, Keith stirred again and made a thick, queasy sort of noise that made both of his teammates freeze, staring at each other. 

“…bucket?” Shiro breathed. 

“Other end of the couch,” Hunk murmured. “I’ve got him.  _ Go _ .”

Shiro dived for the bucket at Hunk’s end of the couch and Hunk shifted Keith around, trying to be as gentle as he could. 

Keith made a definitely sick sound and let go of Hunk to cover his mouth and muffle an ominously wet belch. Hunk used this movement to turn him around, so that when Shiro bolted back with the bucket in hand, Hunk could simply help Keith lean over it, guiding him down to kneel on the floor as his back arched with an aborted heave. 

“Get it up,” Shiro sighed. “There’s no fighting food poisoning, Keith.”

Keith fought it a minute or two more before giving in. Hunk brushed his hair back and tried not to listen as his smaller teammate heaved up the cup of tea and single cracker with a lot more violence than was strictly necessary. 

When he’d finished, Hunk switched placed with Shiro and let the older paladin gently scoot Keith back onto the couch. Keith went with a pained groan, hugging his abdomen in a gesture Hunk was intimately familiar with. 

“I’ll get a heat pack for your stomach,” he sighed. “Nothing’ll make the ache go away except time, but the heat helps some.”

Keith nodded faintly, sniffling in the aftermath of the episode until Shiro located a hand towel for him to swipe at his face with. “Thanks, Hunk.”

“Any time. You just rest. I’ll be back.”


End file.
